of course 'we' all buy notebooks, too many notebooks. and you can buy blue bear notebooks and graph paper notebooks but looseleaf has at once the sound of fluttering and loss which is what i want to do with thoughts these days. not letting yourself go to seed... but just wilted and tremulous leaves. so hey no more notebooks. no more organ donation. listen with your eyes and i'll dream with my face.

getting my summer teeth on in so many ways
you know i love your smile and your heart and i know
i might've cried to see you walk away from
my moving window. you had the walk of a happily defeated man
though i only saw one step and your nod to yourself,
so later i leaned out over traffic to be in the night,
the cab driver was a woman and i blinded myself to everything
called home, hid myself from every voice and any hand.
so that night i watched you from the fifth car
your hands steadying the shoulder straps of your bag and all alone,
going home to where your killers couldn't help you
which line do you take from "if you want to hurt someone so badly, doesn't it mean you care" to
get to "i hated seeing you give so much".
of course you can filter everything but memory you can cry yourself under the pillow
our eyes being so lucky as to turn to marbles in the night

science fair
"quantum physics man, it's the gangsta rap of engineering" -erik kim
experiment: how readily recognizable are the alphabets of korean and english to its native speakers/readers? in terms of speed and accuracy? b/c i am illiterate...

i've had those in my head for a bit too long. along with too many other things. sensory deprivation, okay, it's something i think about a lot but just like...
"do you think i'm merely a physical woman?", asked ursula falteringly
"although they both knew barbara had bled so much it was scary"
"he could write well and speedily"
"what happens if one is NOT nice to the young man" -(guess who).

empirical evidence shows that disaster can strike not just for him but for you but of course, it's nothing you can help after the fact. feminism i think is a world of no takebacks. and the seething anger therein.

one of my favorite things to do here is buy drinks. bev-er-idg-es. because they're cold and refreshing, interestingly named and flavored, and you get to talk to the person at the store. i like to buy drinks everywhere, actually. never mind. if anyone wants the special edition of amnesiac, just e-mail me okay? they're selling them crazy cheaply here and they're very cute radiohead + harry potter = special edition style (i.e. the CD? it's in a book. my stylisms aren't doing too well out of water).

the worst part in my dreams about korea is the part where i die there. actually die. crushed underneath a red hot subway car or hit by a random falling helicopter or strangled in a back alley (they portray gangsters really scarily on the new videos). or, feeling utterly alone in a country of people i have dismissed categorically, and momentarily depressed, i do something ridiculous. so to die, all alone with undevastated relatives and an ocean between me and anyone who cares. subconsciously, distance really is a killer for me. honestly...! i wouldn't write this (because how embarrassing to come back all alive and having written this) if i didn't actually fear it. already i feel a great distance between me and the place i am right now and the people in it. like, for most people i know, this is the last summer, and for me, the last few weeks, that we can really anticipate spending in poughkeepsie. it's a town of ugly policemen and little girls with uncombed hair and bare feet; it's a town where you might have to go from one fluorescent-lit diner to another to convince yourself you're not in your house (gas prices being what they are, pointless late night rambles are less feasible and less liberating); it's a town where the new housing developments spiral endlessly, modular homes which are just outgrowths of huge, crap-filled garages. a place where you can judge how well-traveled someone is by how well they know the silly names of said housing developments. maybe not how well-traveled...how many doctors you know. regardless! none of this sucks, per se. and it's not that depressing to live here or even just to visit here. if you want to be depressed, after all, you can always find something about a place and nearly any person. but just the mood i'm in now, the one where i fall asleep at 4:50 in the afternoon then wake up an hour later, and think that it's 6 in the morning. but that i need something or i need to feel, as soon as tomorrow morning or hopefully saturday morning, that things aren't finished and that i still have things to think about, if not talk about. it'll come... :^) i was thinking - at least on a 16 hour plane ride, i'll be relieved to alight on a touchy new ground and the momentary shock of a different language could actually just startle my heart into happiness.